


kissing her petals and whispering swears

by Heather



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather/pseuds/Heather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half of everything Lady Greyjoy said came out that way, as though she was always on the offensive. Daenerys would have suspected it of being an Iron Islands cultural artifact, except that Lord Greyjoy seemed to exist as only his sister's ducking, flailing foil, a mumbler and a stutterer who could never quite bring himself to look anyone in the eye. Perhaps he was an exception, mistreated at Winterfell so that he lacked his people's renowned backbone. Or perhaps Lady Greyjoy was the exceptional one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kissing her petals and whispering swears

**Author's Note:**

> FOR # 11

"You're fucking that pretty boy, aren't you?" Lady Greyjoy asked. "The one that led the charge with your Dothraki screamers today."

The question slapped Daenerys into alertness, like an accusation. Half of everything Lady Greyjoy said came out that way, as though she was always on the offensive. Daenerys would have suspected it of being an Iron Islands cultural artifact, except that Lord Greyjoy seemed to exist as only his sister's ducking, flailing foil, a mumbler and a stutterer who could never quite bring himself to look anyone in the eye. Perhaps he was an exception, mistreated at Winterfell so that he lacked his people's renowned backbone. Or perhaps Lady Greyjoy was the exceptional one.

She was finding it difficult to tell much about her in this setting, loafing about her council chambers in a warm, fiery glow from the braziers, with a spread of wine and ale on the table. The wine, of course, had been Lord Tyrion's idea, the ale something the Greyjoys had brought themselves. Lady Greyjoy seemed repulsed by wine.

And, apparently, pretty boys who may or may not be fucking Daenerys.

"What makes you think that?" she asked, sipping from her cup as cool and calm as she could, as though being asked something so brazen by someone so near a stranger didn't bother her in the least.

"The way he looks at you," Lady Greyjoy said, also coolly, though Daenerys had the sinking suspicion that her demeanor wasn't an act. "Like a man who knows all of your secrets."

Daenerys couldn't help a disbelieving laugh. "Daario doesn't look at me much differently from how you do." 

"So he _wants_ to be fucking you, then," Lady Greyjoy said, with a look that might've been leering or lecherous on another face, but was different somehow on hers. Friendlier, maybe. Like an invitation.

Dany took another sip of her wine. 

That sip seemed to tell her everything she wanted to know and more, and Lady Greyjoy let out a knowing chuckle. "Why do the high-born ladies of Westeros feel such a need to be coy about what they do- and whom they do it with?" She chuckled more. "Did the seven gods not give you a mouth to speak your demands, to go with the cunt that makes them?"

She hastily set the wine aside so she wouldn't choke. "I wasn't brought up to worship the Seven." Dany hadn't been brought up to worship anyone at all, unless Viserys counted. He had thought awfully well of himself at the time. It had dominated her life and made even the ideas of both the old gods and the new seem very pale and distant, and she had barely given it a thought since she'd been out from under his thumb. "If any gods were to appeal to me, it'd be the ones the Dothraki worship."

"Even better," Lady Greyjoy snorted. "Horse gods and rock gods--"

"You, of course, prefer the bloated corpse god," Dany said. 

"My preferences are more earthly." She gave Dany the look again- an invitation to smile, to laugh, to kiss her, or to take her right here. It was a bit disconcerting. It made Dany want to say something that might make Lady Greyjoy feel even the least bit caught off her guard.

To her dismay, the best she could come up with when Lady Greyjoy was looking at her like that was, "Is it the usual thing in the Iron Islands, for women to take wives?"

But it still seemed to do the trick. The look was fast replaced by one of blank confusion. "What?"

Daenerys felt a slight stab of satisfaction and gave her an innocent smile. "You did make an offer for my hand."

"It's not the 'usual thing' anywhere," Lady Greyjoy said, looking irritated that Dany had managed to both score a point in the game that was this conversation, and to distract her from being seductive at the same time. She tried to recover. "Why would it matter if it was? Would that make you consider it?"

"I'd like to learn more about the people who will be my subjects," Dany said. She arched an eyebrow and smiled, inviting her to volley.

"That's what you've got the dwarf for," Lady Greyjoy said. "And I thought we'd worked out that the Iron Islands won't be your subjects." It was as though Daenerys had snuffed out one of the braziers, she had gone so fast from hot to cold. 

"I should have said allies," Dany said.

"You should have," she agreed. She began pouring herself an ale, giving the cup a look so murderous that Daenerys couldn't help being glad that that look wasn't turned on her. "The last Targaryens were tyrants. Couldn't be trusted." She sat back in her chair, folding one arm across her chest and extending the other in a mockery of a toast. "Wouldn't want to have to say the same thing about you."

Dany lifted her chin, pressing her lips together to hold back an angry retort. "Do I strike you as an untrustworthy tyrant?"

"You strike me as someone to be careful of," Lady Greyjoy said. "I never met anyone else who burned half an armada. Not in less than ten minutes, at least."

"Oh, and do you disapprove of that?" she asked, with more than a touch of mocking. It didn't seem a fair criticism from someone she had had to barter into not raping and pillaging the Westerosi countryside, all things considered.

"Course not," Lady Greyjoy said, some of the warmth coming back into her eyes as a teasing half-smile tugged at her lip. "They weren't careful of you."

Dany tried, without success, to resist her own smile. "I can't tell if you mean that as a compliment."

"I do," she said. "I like women to be careful of."

She laughed. "Is there any sort of woman you don't like?" Lady Greyjoy may have maintaned a flirtatious air with Dany since she had arrived, but that hadn't stopped her from a few lingering looks at Missandei. It hadn't stopped Dany from noticing them, either. 

Lady Greyjoy sat up, long and slow, leaning into the table with the sort of menacing grace that Daenerys usually associated with her dragons. "I'd rather know what sort of woman _you_ don't like." 

"What makes you think I like any sort of woman at all?" Dany asked.

"Because you keep being awful at flirting." She spread her arms out on the surface of the table. _Your move._

"I'm not _flirting,_ " Dany said. It took real effort to keep it from coming out sounding too defensive, like a child sulkily insisting they didn't want to play with you anyway. It was maddening. 

Worse, Lady Greyjoy wasn't buying what she was selling. "You're not? What are you doing, then?"

"Becoming better acquainted with my fellow queen," she said, with as much dignity as she could muster. 

Lady Greyjoy looked amused. "I'm not a queen yet," she reminded her. 

"But you will be," Daenerys said.

Her amusement only seemed to double. "You're so sure."

She could point out that Lady Greyjoy would be one already, if it hadn't been for the appearance of an inconvenient uncle. There was a fleet of people and ships right here in Mereen that had flocked to her banner, ready to lay down their lives to put her on the Salt Throne. Her own brother had forfeited his claim to support hers, and in Dany's experience, that wasn't the sort of thing brothers did lightly. 

But what she found herself saying was, "I will make you one."

Lady Greyjoy raised her eyebrows, giving her an admiring smile. "You want a queen on a throne in Westeros that badly?"

"I want you on a throne in Westeros that badly."

Lady Greyjoy stood up, meandering over to Dany's side of the table like she had all the time in the world. Her leathers creaked as she moved, drawing Dany's gaze to her thighs. They were strong and shapely, the kind that were chiseled out on the back of a horse. Dany wagered that if she felt them, Lady Greyjoy's hands would bear callouses from reins, swords, and bowstrings. She had a warrior's body, which Dany had appreciated before, but she'd never had opportunity to admire it in a woman prior to their meeting. She already knew that physical power and strength aroused her. She hadn't known that would still be the case with a woman.

Lady Greyjoy's hand brushed across her cheek, as rough and hardened as Dany had expected, sending a shiver down her back. She looked up at her. 

"And that isn't flirting?" Lady Greyjoy asked, smiling.

"I want allies," Dany said. "I want the country without having to burn it to the ground and build it back up. I _will_ , of course, but I don't want to." She hadn't said that before, not even to Jorah, who would forgive her anything, nor Daario, who supposedly knew all her secrets. She felt now like she'd been saving it for another aspiring queen with the world set against her, who might understand, and who Dany had been sure until now didn't exist. 

"You think if you get the right people on the thrones of the Seven Kingdoms, they'll just hand them to you?" The question seemed to be free of judgment or derision, which surprised Dany. Lady Greyjoy gave every impression of looking forward to burning the people who resisted her, almost more than she looked forward to ruling them.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I wouldn't hate to find out." She turned her head so her cheek pressed harder against Lady Greyjoy's hand. "Would you?"

"Yes," Lady Greyjoy said. 

Dany felt a fleeting stab of disappointment. "Why?"

She slid her fingers into Dany's hair. "Because I like the idea of burning it all to give it to you."

Against her will, every hair on Dany's body stood up, and she felt a brief but insistent throb between her legs. That shouldn't have stirred her so deeply, but it did. And by the look in her eyes, Lady Greyjoy knew that it did.

She bent her head to whisper in Daenerys' ear, breathing fire against her cheek, "You're the dragon queen. What could be better to give a dragon?"

"Lady Greyjoy--" 

She cut her off. "Yara."

Her name felt heavy, like Dany had been handed the weight of a jewel. "Yara." She felt Yara's lips feather over her earlobe, followed by her teeth and the barest hint of her tongue. Dany closed her eyes and tried to repress a moan. "What are you doing?"

Yara slid her hands from Dany's hair to cup her breasts. She murmured, "Seducing you."

Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her dress, as though they were straining to be in Yara's hands. Yara squeezed her breasts in response, then sought to tug her neckline down until they were free, her calloused palms caressing Dany's bare skin.

Dany couldn't stop the moan this time. "I shouldn't," she said, even as she arched her back to press harder into Yara's hands.

Yara bit at her throat, her thumbs circling her nipples. "Shouldn't," she asked, "or don't want me to?"

Dany grabbed a fistful of her hair and kissed her.

Yara kissed her back without the slightest hesitation, her tongue delving deep into Dany's mouth, her thumbs and forefingers clamping on her nipples. In one smooth motion, she straddled Dany's knees and sank into her lap.

She wasn't heavy, Dany realized. Standing ramrod straight in her iron and leathers, Yara had cut the figure of a legendary knight, larger than life itself, but here in her lap, Yara was hardly any bigger than Dany was, probably no more than a handspan taller. She had expected her to be uncomfortably heavy, at least until the armor was off, but now that she was here, Dany thought she could stay like this for a long time.

As though she could sense the thought, Yara kissed her again, and ground her hips into Dany's lap.

Dany arched back against her, and started trying to find where Yara's armor fastened. 

Yara laughed against her lips. "Impatient, are we?" She gave Dany's breasts another squeeze.

"I could say the same of you," Dany said, punctuating the sentence with light, brief kisses on her lips, her hands still fumbling at Yara's breastplate. 

Yara laughed again, then pressed another lingering kiss to her mouth, her tongue tracing every crease of Dany's. She dropped Dany's breasts to unfasten her armor and pull it off herself. Then she seemed to decide that as long as her hands were empty, she might as well tug Daenerys' dress down more, until she was completely bare to the waist. She bent her head and sucked Dany's nipple into her mouth.

Dany let out a quiet cry and went to work untucking Yara's tunic from her trousers. 

Yara moved to let her as much as she could without having to let go of her nipple. She broke away from it so she could suck the other, then kissed each one, squeezing each breast again. "You have, without doubt, the most perfect tits in Essos," Yara said, looking at them with a fondness that made Dany want to both laugh and pull her head back to them.

She opted for the former, trying to muffle the laughter as she asked, "Only in Essos? Not Westeros, too?"

Yara grinned rakishly at her. "You haven't seen mine."

Dany laughed again. "Well. Let's fix that, shall we?"

Obligingly, Yara pulled her tunic over her head. 

They _were_ perfect, Dany thought. A little bigger than hers, a little less round, and a little lopsided, but wonderful for all that. She could envision the traveling minstrels on the streets writing odes to the color of Yara's nipples, to the interplay of shadows over their curves. Dany feathered her fingers over the nipples as slowly, as gently, as she could.

Yara laughed at her expression. "You can grab them, you know," she said, grabbing Dany's again for emphasis with an iron grip that made her gasp. "They won't come off."

"I know they won't," Dany said, rolling her eyes. She laid her palms flat against Yara's breasts, sliding them down to watch the interplay of her nipples slipping between Dany's fingers. They hardened into points against the sides of her knuckles.

"Beautiful," Dany whispered. She leaned forward and kissed one.

Yara made a sound that was half-chuckle, half-satisfied moan. "Good," she murmured, before taking Dany's hands into her own and moving them further down, pressing her breasts forward to mold Dany's hands into cups around them. She squeezed Dany's hands hard, almost biting, into her flesh. "Better."

Yara let go and Dany gave an experimental squeeze of her own, feeling the tender orbs roll beneath her fingers, the silken texture of her skin. This was probably the only softness she would find on Yara Greyjoy's body. The thought roused her further, as though Yara was one of her dragons, trusting Dany with where she was vulnerable. She bent her head to suck, then thought the better of it and seized the nipple in her teeth.

Yara let out a satisfied hiss. "That's it," she whispered. "Like that."

Her pleasure seemed to spark a fire under Dany's skin. Emboldened, she began kissing frantic outlines circling each breast, bending her head every so often to kiss, to lick, to suck, to bite. Each graze of teeth seemed to stoke Yara's flames, too, tossing her head back with gasps and moans, grinding her cunt through her trousers against Dany's thigh. 

Dany slid her hand down her belly, toying with Yara's waist, hesitating.

Yara, it seemed, felt no such hesitation. She took Dany's wrist in another iron-hard grasp and shoved it below her trouser waist, guiding her fingers to where she was hot and wet, ready.

Dany tried to clear her mind, tried to remember from this angle how she touched herself, how Drogo and Daario had touched her; her mind felt like it was swimming in a sea of fire, like she was trying to navigate through smoke. Her fingers shaking and clumsy, she found Yara's peak, hot and throbbing, and rubbed circles into it with her thumb at the same time she slid her fingers inside. 

Yara moaned, shuddered, clenched the muscles in her thighs and pressed her cunt as hard against Dany's hand as their position would allow. She let out a deranged half-laugh. "You're sure you've never done this with a woman before?"

Dany beckoned her fingers inside her, savoring the tremor Yara gave when she did. "Never with someone else's cunt."

"Mm." Yara slid her hand up Dany's skirt, hooking her fingers into the corner of her smallclothes, and almost before she knew what had happened, Dany felt Yara's fingers sliding roughshod over her clit. "And never with another woman's fingers?" 

Dany let out a cry and arched her hips up for more. 

Yara stroked her hard, her movements insistent, before she pulled her hand away. Dany opened her mouth to protest, then stuttered to a halt as she watched Yara suck, pointed and seductive, at her own fingers. 

"What are you- ?" Dany started to ask, puzzlement clawing its way through pleasure in a way she resented. 

"Sampling the wine," Yara said, her voice low, husky, and a little teasing. She licked at the fold of her nail. "You're delicious, Your Grace."

Dany could feel color flooding her cheeks, bright and febrile. She knew the act, but she had never had a man who would do it. She opened her legs an inch more, and tried to give Yara her most challenging look. "Are you going to drink it?"

She fisted her hands in Dany's skirt, rolling it up until it was balled about her waist. She slid from her lap to her knees on the floor, and gave her a cheeky grin. "Who wouldn't?" She bent her head.

The first lap of Yara's tongue sent a jolt through her spine, her whole body jerking with it. Her skin prickled and her every hair stood on end, and, unthinking, Dany slid forward to press into it. Yara patted her thigh and licked again.

"Oh..." Dany tipped her head back and grabbed fistfuls of Yara's hair to hold her in place.

Yara pressed adoring kisses against her mound, against each lip, against the twist of flesh that gave such insistent throbs. "Never had it before?" she asked, her breath hot against Dany's skin. 

"No," she said. She didn't care what that said about the others who had been in her bed. She gave a gentle tug on Yara's hair. "Give it to me again."

Yara's tongue circled her clit- once, twice- before she sucked it into her mouth. 

Dany lifted her legs, hooking them over Yara's shoulders and folding them over her back. The tasting of her nipples had been slow, luxurious, and sweet; the tasting of her cunt was anything but. Yara's tongue was hard and harsh, kneading in twists and jerks, as though she was trying to spell out the names of all the seven gods in Dany's flesh, extracting moans and shivers with a passionate fervor that a zealot would envy.

Dany could feel her pleasure rising like a breaking wave, ready to wash over her and drown her if it could. Encouragement poured out of her, nonsensical, in broken mutters of "yes," "please," "oh, there- yes, there--", until flames and seawaves collided together in her mind, her body boiling over with pleasure, pinpricks of light winking in and out of her vision like stars.

Boneless and sated, she sagged into her chair, only her knees on Yara's shoulders preventing her from sliding out of it and sprawling, like something half-dead, on the stone.

Yara kissed her inner thigh and smiled up at her. "Was it everything you hoped for?" Her mouth and chin were slick and glistening, wet like she had indeed been drinking deep.

Dany smiled back as well as she could when even the muscles in her face felt slack with pleasure. "More."

Yara grinned again. "Is that an answer," she asked, "or a request?"

Dany reached down and combed her fingers through her hair. "Which would you prefer?"

Yara untangled herself from Dany's limbs until she could stand and, wordless, gathered her up in her arms. Dany's breath caught in her throat, anticipation already starting to kindle itself anew. 

Gods be good, it was going to be a very long night.


End file.
